


It had to be you

by jkl



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Past Rape/Non-con, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 01:39:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8825125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jkl/pseuds/jkl
Summary: “Well guess what Commander.  I don’t need this.  I don’t need you staring at me all shift.  I don’t need you running to Bones behind my back.  I don’t need help. I don’t need--” Kirk broke off desperately.  You.A mission brings up a part of Jim's past that he hasn't dealt with.  Spock is there, as he's wanted to be since Nero.  No one really gets any of it right.Post 2009, but not compliant with SITD or STB plot lines.





	

**Author's Note:**

> First fic. This is pretty horrible. You guys make writing seem so easy, so I thought I would give it a try. I couldn't get much further, but it seemed a waste not to post and at least get some feedback in case there's a next time.

“Commander. Status report. Any concerns from Sciences?”

Spock turned at his station to face the Captain. “No,” he replied crisply. “All experiments and specimen processing are proceeding as scheduled, I anticipate no interruptions to our next mission, Captain.”

“Thanks Spock.” Kirk replied and turned back to face the crew. “Great. Ok then, we will have 2 days of travel before we arrive at Starbase Delta and begin our next assignment, which is…” he glanced at the screen in front of him, reading quickly. “Transporting…” He leaned forward slightly, his mouth caught half-open, gaze still at the orders in his lap. He paused, closing his mouth quickly, the briefest look of fear appearing in his eyes, and his gaze fleetingly reached for his first officer, but Spock had shifted in his seat, his attention back towards his station and did not notice. He swallowed quickly, hurriedly sitting up and pushing up his uniform sleeves to remind himself where he was. “Transporting a group of prisoners from the starbase to the prison planet Aidez. These particular prisoners are violent offenders of sensitive crimes and have been deemed to be at risk for harassment. They are to be processed with the highest level of security, and interaction with crew members and is to be limited” he recited calmly.

Kirk forced himself to smile, turning his gaze towards his crew members. “Ok then, should be a straightforward mission then! “We arrive in-” he coughed, clearing his throat - “60 hours. See you next shift.” The crew started filing out - Jim moving quickly to the ready room, shutting the door behind him. Spock, one of the last to leave the bridge, turned back to see the captain slump against the ready room table, back to the door. Curious now, Spock narrowed his gaze at the tension evident in the captain’s shoulders, the hard set of his jaw, and the tight swallow he forced down his throat. He wondered briefly about the slight inconsistency - Kirk’s carefree tone mixed with the tightness in his posture - but he should attribute it to one of the many intricacies of human body language that he found difficult to master, but he found himself leaving the lift and walking towards the captain slowly.

* * *

 

Kirk waited until he heard the distant sound of the lift sliding shut a last time behind him before turning around again. Just as he did so, Spock opened the door to the ready room, and Kirk jumped mid turn at the noise.

“Captain?” Spock stopped short in the doorway. “I apologize if I frightened you.”

Kirk took in a deep breath to steady himself, realizing halfway through that with it he was giving away his emotional state. He forced it into a smaller inhale, forcing the air out slowly and painting on a grin as his heart rate sky rocketed and his head threatened to start pounding.

“No problem. What can I do for you Spock?”

Spock stepped closer, confidently shifting his gaze over Kirk’s face. “I wanted to enquire about your well-being Captain.” He paused, watching carefully. “And any concerns you have about the upcoming mission.”

 _God. Why not, here we go again_. Kirk groaned inwardly as his face reddened and he unconsciously struck his arm out reaching for the back of the nearest chair. Hoping that had actually appeared natural, he glanced down only to realize his hand was shaking. He hurriedly brought it back to his side, clenching his fist.

It had been like this since Spock had joined the crew. All the heated glances during their first mission, the intensity of attack stripping away Kirk’s insecurities, all of that was gone. Ever since Spock had come on board post-Nero, it was all awkward exchanges, the barely repressed fear that he was in over his head, and mostly just Spock standing too close. Way too close. All of the time. And looking at him, always with the same question. Are you well Captain?

 _Not when you’re looking at me like that Spock. Then I can’t breathe_. “I’m fine Spock, just a bit tired. I’ll see you at dinner, ok?” He pushed past Spock for the lift, not looking back.

* * *

 Spock was just sitting down with his PADD to review his schedule for the day when he heard it. The oddly strangled scream coming from the wall behind his bed, the wall behind which the captain's quarters and their shared bathroom sat, so loud he heard it clearly though the walls. He hesitated for just a beat. He was awake sure, this was his routine, but it was early still on the ship - 05:20. It didn’t seem likely that he was mis-hearing an innocuous sound, the captain should have been asleep at this hour.

Spock dropped his PADD on the table and grabbed his phaser from his shelf, wrenching the door to the bathroom open and sweeping inside. He paused for a minute at the opposite door, listening intently. He heard smaller strangled sounds, and what sounded like muffled movement. He debated calling out to announce his presence, but was afraid of alerting what sounded like an intruder, against whom it would be better to hold his current advantage of surprise. He slid open the door to Kirk’s quarters quietly and peered inside, hand on the phaser held at his hip.

He stopped, momentarily confused. The room was normal in appearance, he saw no one else. The captain alone was the source of the noise - sputtering and choking back breaths as he lay tangled in his sheets, his hands clenched into fists and sweat pouring out of him as he twitched and turned. Spock slid quickly down to the floor beside the bed, panic beating in his chest, the captain was clearly seriously ill. “Captain.” Spock said firmly, then again louder, almost shouting as he leaned over. “CAPTAIN!” Still no response from Kirk, who was moving in distress though his eyes remained closed, almost wrenched shut in what Spock assumed was sleep. He knew enough about humans to know about the occurrence of nightmares, but this seemed far beyond. He tore his gaze away from Kirk and looked around the bed wildly. His eyes landed on Kirk’s communicator on the nightstand. He grabbed it, flipping it open and demanding with a forced evenness, “Spock to MedBay.”

“McCoy here.”

“Doctor. The captain is ill. Send a medical team to his quarters immediately.” Spock made to close the communicator, desperate to try something - anything - to rescue Kirk from the invisible horror unfolding in front of him.

“Wait! Spock, dammit. What’s wrong with him?!”

“Uncertain.” was Spock’s only response.

Spock turned his attention back to Kirk who had stilled somewhat, but was still whimpering. He swiftly pulled the sheet back, scanning the captain’s body for any sign of injury as he did so. Not seeing any, he shifted himself onto the mattress beside Kirk. Hesitating slightly, he realized that the sheet was damp beneath him, and the faint smell of urine met his nose. The burning sense of alarm rose higher in his chest, and he reached out with both hands, grasping Kirk’s bare shoulders and shaking.

His second intended cry of “CAPTAIN” died on his lips as a siren of Kirk’s fading dream slid into his mind. He had never felt such sharp, deep stabs from another, his shields reeled against the onslaught.

“ _You aren’t going anywhere Kirk.”_

_Fingers roughly scratching at his boxers as his arms were pinned against his chest_

_“Didn’t I warn you this would happen? Didn’t I tell you this is what the world would expect from you turned out this way?”_

_He was bent over, face smashed down against his own bed comforter. Again. He remembered how much it had meant to him to have his own room, his own stuff, 2 years ago when they bought it. And how much he hated it now. How he would have to throw it on the floor and sleep shivering and uncovered later. How it would be days before he could even forgive the fucking blanket for christ’s sake._

_He made it 30 seconds before he was pulled back into his own head by the pain. His ass was burning every time his face slammed towards the bed, and he thought he felt wetness trickling down between his cheeks, something too hot on the back of his balls. With his luck it would be blood. He closed his eyes, heat and pain searing him, but knowing he was too dead inside for it to matter now._

Spock shook, immediately moving to break the contact between his fingers and Kirk’s skin. Without warning, Kirk’s hands gripped him, his forearms curling around Spock’s, fingernails digging and burning Spock’s skin through his uniform shirt. Spock’s eyes flew open and saw that the captain had pulled himself up slightly as he gripped, braced awkwardly against the headboard. His eyes were open but unfocused and he was choking on sobs, breath coming faster than his body could move.

_Trapped. But not really. He had trapped himself._

“Spock?” the captain choked out roughly.

Spock? the same thought echoed in Spock’s mind through Jim’s skin

Kirk’s mind was split so brazenly open before him, cracked everywhere with deep chasms of emotions.

 _Need. Shame. Fury_.

Spock was unprepared for this. So completely and utterly unprepared. The pain of it was so concrete. He reeled, shields cracking, desperately wanting to break the connection, but unable to when everything he was, everything he had ever been, seemed to fit snug into Kirk’s consciousness. He felt his breath catch as Kirk’s mind softened, the edges and anger giving way to a weeping wound, begging for relief. This quickly faded as a knowing tension began to build between them, a harsh familiarity materializing from Jim’s conscious.

 _It’s Spock. SPOCK! Shit. SHIT_.

He felt Kirk’s warmth melt to utter panic and slam shut over the vulnerability. His arms released Spock’s as though burned. Spock opened his eyes, breathing heavily. Kirk is shaking, still streaming tears, and just now truly aware of where he is. He gaped at Spock, wide eyed for an instant, then fell back against the headboard and retched. Spock shifted back on the bed, gathering himself.

“Captain. You are unwell. I heard your shouts and came to your quarters to investigate. I summoned Dr. McCoy immediately, he should be here shortly.” He started as Kirk suddenly tried to get up, failing as his arms shook and his chest heaved again. Spock saw the captain glance down at the bed and felt the shame radiate off him as he bit down his lip. Hard. Spock could almost feel the pain go through him even though they were no longer touching.

It was a moment before Kirk spoke, his voice rough. “Spock. Shit--I--I’m sorry. I didn’t realize...I didn’t mean to grab you like that.” Kirk swallowed angrily and looked away. “It was just a nightmare. I’m fine, I don’t need to see Bones. Thanks for waking me up, I guess, but you should go.”

“Captain.” Spock paused, his brain fighting hard to adjust. Something was different. He felt too much. There was a fuzziness of emotions that weren’t his crowding his mind. “I do not believe your actions and physical condition to be consistent with a reaction to a human nightmare, as you say. Try to remain calm-.”

“Spock. You should go.” Kirk repeated emphatically. Too emphatically.

Spock raised his eyebrow. “Captain…”

He was interrupted abruptly by the sound of McCoy banging on the door. Before he could blink, Kirk had turned away from him and scrambled out the opposite side of his bed, sprinting towards the door controls. He typed in the code to prevent McCoy from overriding the door lock and slumped against the door, fighting to control his breathing. “Bones! Hey, everything’s cool - Spock just overreacted to me having a nightmare. You know how confusing humans are to this one.”

Spock narrowed his eyes at the forced lightness in Kirk’s voice. He knew the captain had the highest regard for Dr. McCoy’s medical skills and professionalism, despite what opinions he might voice in jest. Why then, was he so intent on preventing a medical intervention now? Dr. McCoy was the captain’s closest confidant to Spock’s knowledge. If he did not want his assistance, then the issue must be graver than Spock had concluded. Regardless, Kirk looked positively undone, back against the door to his quarters, fists clenched, and chest heaving. Spock couldn’t quite bring himself to add to his distress in this moment, however illogical he knew that to be. He found himself striding to the door and raised his voice as he called calmly through the door, “Doctor. Captain Kirk is correct, I misinterpreted his reaction as a physical ailment. I apologize for my mistake and the interruption.” He looked down and motioned gently to the floor. Kirk happily obliged, sliding to the side haphazardly.

As usual, McCoy was not so easily dissuaded. “Spock - what the hell is going on - you’re saying it was just a bad dream? I don’t understand, are you planning to sing him back to sleep or what?”

Spock looked down at Kirk on the floor and found that the captain met his gaze. Somehow it seemed his senses were heightened from before he had entered the room - interpreting Kirk’s expression seemed to come easily. There was a deepness to his eyes that caused an answer to fall easily off Spock’s lips, as though he didn’t have to process the look first. Kirk was pleading, fearful, and desperate. Spock straightened and adjusted his tone slightly to add a bit of sarcasm. “I was not aware that my voice was a medically valid tool for relaxation.”

McCoy paused, irritation growing. “Whatever, Spock….Dammit...Jim are you sure you’re ok in there? Do you need a sleep aid?”

“That will not be required, Doctor.” Spock clipped back.

“Fine, but Jim, if you think we aren’t having words about this tomorrow…”

Kirk leaned back and forced out a passable “Sure thing, Bones.” Spock heard the doctor sigh loudly and then shuffle away from the door.

When Spock looked back down at Kirk, he saw that the captain’s head had fallen forward to lean on his crossed arms and hide his face. Spock stood there awkwardly for several seconds, not sure what to do next. Kirk eventually broke the silence, still hiding his face. “Just go Spock. I mean, thanks, really….but just go.”

Spock didn’t move, still standing in the entryway wondering why his own arms suddenly felt so foreign to him.

“-It was just a dream.” Kirk whispered as an afterthought.

Spock thought back to all he had seen in the moments that he and Jim had connected. _Jim?_ He briefly wondered if he could be certain if what he had glimpsed in Jim’s-- _the Captain’s_ \--mind were memories of real events, fictional fears, or a mix of both. They had to be real, but even if they weren’t...it didn’t matter. He knew enough to know what had happened. But that didn’t mean he knew enough to help.

Spock moved gingerly towards Kirk, stopping beside him and carefully tucking his legs underneath himself to slide slowly down to the floor beside him, resting his hands tentatively on his own knees. He could feel the strain radiating off Kirk increasing, the air between them slightly taught. “Captain...” he ventured carefully, “I believe you are quite exhausted. It appears that the matters troubling you tonight are very serious. Possibly traumatic in nature...”

“-Spock.” The captain cut him off. “Just stop ok. I know..” he bit back a small sob. “..I know what happens when you touch people. Ok. So maybe some of my life was crap. Really shitty stuff. That doesn’t mean anything for you. That doesn’t mean you get to tell me what to do.”

“But Captain, I-

“Spock. _Get. The. Fuck. Out_.”

“No.” Spock shot back, hardening his voice. “I will not leave.” He paused for several seconds, then looked down at the back of Kirk’s head and aimed for a whisper.

“Please do not be worried. I...I can help.” _You._ Spock swallowed the last part, not sure why it was so loud in his head. He stood up quickly, reaching his hand down to Kirk. The captain started, looked up finally, and after several moments heaved himself up, studiously avoiding Spock’s outstretched hand. Spock nodded at him and dropped his hand, the simple gesture earning a wave of relief from Kirk. “Captain. Perhaps you would like to take a shower at this time?” Spock asked, trying to keep his voice quiet.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” Kirk acknowledged, heading towards the bathroom. Spock watched him carefully, and searched quickly through the drawers along the wall for two towels, a Starfleet black undershirt, and boxer briefs. Taking one of the towels, he placed it between his hand and the small of Kirk’s back, taking care not to touch his skin, and helped lead him inside, watching the small tremors still shaking his arms and legs. When Kirk was to the shower door, he let go before the captain could start protesting at the aid, but Kirk seemed to have lapsed into a hard silence, eyes vacant, perhaps too exhausted to care.

Spock quietly gathered the captain’s discarded boxers, left the towels and clean clothes on the sink, and exited the bathroom, but left both the door to his quarters and the door to Kirk’s quarters open. He went first to his and worked the environmental controls. He lowered the temperature to what he gauged to be the temperature in Kirk’s and lowered the lights so that there was only a soft glow in the room. He then swept back to Kirk’s quarters and approached the bed, stripping the soiled sheets and blanket while avoiding looking at them, stuffing everything down the laundry chute. He went to the computer and put in an urgent request for a cleaning of Kirk’s quarters and the mattress. Switching to Kirk’s environmental controls, he upped the air circulation. He took Kirk’s own communicator and phaser and placed them in in the other room on his own nightstand along with a glass of cold water. He then gathered up his own necessities and piled them on Kirk’s desk. He tapped at his PADD for a few moments, making some needed changes. Satisfied, he nervously headed back to the bathroom to see that Kirk was getting dressed slowly, looking more tired than Spock had ever observed him.

He went to Kirk’s side, taking the towel from his hands and handing him the t-shirt. Kirk looked up in surprise like he hadn’t heard Spock approach. The captain groaned inwardly and felt his cheeks redden with embarrassment. He was so tired. And Spock was still here, still watching him.

Kirk quickly pulled the shirt over his head to hide his lingering discomfort. But Spock simply stood and looked at Kirk patiently, waiting. Kirk, tugging at the bottom of his shirt, tried to meet his gaze confidently, failed miserably, and settled for raised eyebrows. “What?” he questioned.

Spock backed up and gestured towards the door to his quarters. “You should continue sleeping in my quarters Captain. I have made arrangements for Lieutenant Sulu to cover the conn during Alpha shift. I will be available by comm if he needs assistance, but will remain…” he looked away, embarrassed, for the briefest of seconds before focusing on Kirk again....”nearby.”

Kirk opened his mouth as if to protest, but noticed that Spock had purposely placed himself in the doorway leading to back into Kirk’s quarters, subtly implying that this was not a negotiable request. So he padded into the other room, Spock on his heels.

“What, you’re just going to tuck me in? To your bed?” He tried to joke, but it fell flat, leaving the silence awkward between them. Spock, ever stoic, bent and reached behind Kirk and pulled back the blanket for him. Kirk drew in a sharp breath. The closeness of Spock’s body to his had him fighting the urge to grab onto him again, grab onto anything really. He half-wished that Vulcans were ones to give hugs, then shook his head, clearing the thought. This just needed to be over. He got in the bed, noticing for the first time the changes Spock had made to the room. The sheets smelled like Spock, warm and enveloping. He was suddenly very grateful that he wasn’t returning to his own bed. He looked over at Spock who was turning back towards the bathroom.

“Commander.”

Spock stopped and turned back to face the captain.

“Thanks for your assistance. I’m sorry for the trouble.” He met Spock’s eyes as he said it, trying to summon the energy to convey sincerity despite the disgust at himself that was clinging to his mind.

“Of course Captain” Spock nodded, but didn’t continue out of the room. Instead stood with his eyes on the floor for several seconds before he walked back to the bed and sat down beside it with his back to Kirk. “How old were you?” he asked without turning around.

Spock felt Kirk turn over facing away from where he sat. He counted the seconds carefully, trying to control his heartbeat, before he heard the broken whisper behind him.

“13.”

Spock was frozen, he couldn't think of a reply.

Kirk sighed heavily and continued, “The prisoners we are transporting. There are pedophiles down there.”

Spock was still silent, waiting.

“It took me a long time to realize he belonged with them”

They were both silent for a long time after that. Just as Spock was opening his mouth to ask if Jim would prefer he leave that Jim spoke again.

“Spock. Just so you know, it's not really something I talk about with other people. Any people actually.” He muttered, his voice dropping another octave.

“Yes Jim.” Spock replied automatically. He would stay where he was then.

It wasn’t until he rose from the floor 20 minutes later after the captain had drifted off to sleep, curled around one of Spock’s pillows with his face buried, that Spock realized that meant he couldn’t go to McCoy to fill in the unsaid pieces of tonight after all.

* * *

The unspoken things that had held Kirk to Spock from that night dropped quickly from existence over the next week, interactions between them deteriorating until it may as well have been their first post-Nero mission on the Enterprise, not 3 months later. The captain did not appear to be suffering any further physically, returning to his Alpha shift rotation with apparent ease and his usual appearance. However, his glances at Spock on the bridge were fleeting, as if Kirk was only looking in his general direction to maintain the routine, but not actually interested in what he saw on Spock’s face.

As the days pas, Spock made several attempts to create situations in which he and the captain were alone, attempting to use what he had learned about human nature and the benefit of confiding and verbal processing in the role of mental healing. He suggested a group gathering in the mess at the conclusion of one shift, only to have everyone on the bridge turn to him with an odd look. He had apologized and left abruptly via the turbolift as Sulu had erupted in laughter. During the walks through the ship when he found himself alone with Kirk, he related examples of an increasingly personal and illogical nature. However, he soon found that these opportunities had diminished all together as Kirk continue to avoid him, and then he found himself walking the corridor to medbay and sitting down in front of a grumpy McCoy.

 

McCoy waited for Spock to indicate the purpose for his visit, and then redirected his attention when he realized the Vulcan had gone several seconds without speaking.

 

“...uh Spock? You came here for a reason right?”

“Yes Doctor.”

More silence. McCoy had a sudden rush of fear and suspicion in his gut. He straightened in his chair, looking at Spock.

“Doctor.” Spock paused. “I would like to request your expertise on a matter regarding the captain’s health.”

“Cut the crap Spock. McCoy leaned forward and stared without blinking. “What happened?”

Spock stared back, swallowing. “9 nights ago, the nightmare’ But it came out as a question, not a statement, and he stopped abruptly, suddenly having second thoughts about betraying Jim’s trust as he replayed the scene in his mind.

When he looked up again, McCoy was watching him, but his gaze had softened and he suddenly looked impossibly older, his eyes sad, but his fist clenched around his mug of coffee between them.

“It was like a nightmare I believe, but different...more…irregular.”

“Traumatic.” McCoy grunted.

“Yes, that is accurate.”

McCoy leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his face and sighing. He fixed his gaze on Spock once more and asked quietly, “Did he tell you?”

Spock’s eyes widened slightly, and he knew he should dodge the question, but he couldn’t. He nodded slightly, his face flushing.

He didn’t know what he was expecting from McCoy at this admission, anger probably. But the doctor just nodded sharply, sighed even heavier this time, and let out a long breath. “Well. That’s…well….it’s good I guess.” He shifted nervously in his seat “You don’t have to say any more Spock, it’s ok.” Relieved, Spock forced himself to swallow, suddenly aware of how dry his throat and gotten.

McCoy shuffled the papers around on his desk, trying to seem more business like. “It was a night terror - a kind of extreme human nightmare where there is often a strong physical reaction to a dream.” “It’s a not unusual reaction to trauma.” After this, McCoy paused, opening his mouth and then closely it slowly. Spock waited, but McCoy repeated this motion a few times, obviously having difficulty deciding what to say next.

Finally, the doctor threw his hands up slightly in defeat. “Damn it, I’ll just say it, and then you can leave and we can pretend this conversation never happened.”

“Doctor-” Spock began, but McCoy held up a hand.

“No, no. its fine Spock. I was just going to say that. That I know things between you two can’t be exactly...platonic…” Spock felt his ears heat up slightly. “And I think you should know there are some things that Jim doesn’t deal with as much as he needs to. One of them is this. But another is what he’s missed out on because of it. He had someone else’s opinions about himself drilled into his head and he doesn’t like to face them often. So he tends to ignore his needs and let it bottle up until he can’t contain it anymore. Things like companionship. Breaking physical barriers with people.”

McCoy’s face had reddened slightly during that analysis, he was looking at Spock hesitantly across the table with his eyebrows raised.

“I see...” Spock stated slowly after some thought. “That is a product of shame and a means of self-punishment, is it not?”

“Yes.” McCoy said, drawing it out slightly. “But also of self-preservation, ok?”

“Yes, ok” Spock nodded, and McCoy stood up suddenly, startling him.

“Well thank you for bringing that to my attention Spock” Spock rose quickly and turned to leave as McCoy pulled a bottle of bourbon from his desk drawer, saying only a farewell of “I’ll see you on the bridge for my report in the morning”

* * *

 

The next night, Spock woke abruptly to the sound of a sharp metallic clang followed by a muffled and slurred “oh. shit.” He sat up, looking briefly around his quarters. It was 2:43 am - he had to report for Alpha shift in 4 hours. The noise had come from the room behind him again - Kirk must be stumbling in the restroom. He felt a brief instinctive jab of alarm, thinking of the last time he was startled by a noise from Kirk’s quarters, but it quickly passed into disquiet. He had heard Uhura mention to the bridge crew at the conclusion of their previous shift a group gathering that night in her quarters and the promise of alcohol. The captain had expressed interest in this offer immediately - no doubt he was now readying for bed in an inebriated state. As been his routine for the past few weeks, he had immediately shied away from more time with Kirk than was required, pretending to be focused on his PADD and heading for the lift before Uhura had time to turn to him with a personal invitation.

He pulled on his uniform pants and undershirt and walked towards the bathroom. He opened the door and blinked for second, adjusting to the light. Kirk was standing shirtless at the sink, clumsily attempting to squeeze some toothpaste onto his toothbrush.

“Captain?” And Kirk started, swinging around to see Spock standing in his doorway.

“Jesus Spock, did you really need to sneak up on me like that?” and turned his attention back to the toothbrush

 _At least he’s talking to me_ Spock thought inwardly, but instead saying firmly, “You are inebriated.”

At this, Kirk half dropped, half threw the toothbrush into this sink. He placed his hands on either side of the counter and leaned forward, exhaling forcefully.

Spock continued, “Did you purposefully reach this intoxicated state so that you could decrease your chances of having another night terror? I do not believe that to be an advisable course of action -”

Kirk turned his head to face Spock, eyes blazing. Spock paused, realizing that he had angered the captain, but not completely caring. He raised an eyebrow at Kirk, who took the challenge. _A challenge. It was a challenge. Not ba_ it. Spock told himself as Kirk advanced towards him.

The captain pushed his finger into Spock’s chest, back against the wall of the bathroom, standing very close and looking decidedly less intoxicated, though Spock knew he was correct in his observation by the smell of Jim’s breath between them.

“Really, Spock. Really. You think I’m drunk. How helpful of you. Of course. You can’t do anything but help me.” Kirk’s eyes bored into Spock, hard, but Spock noted his voice shook slightly as he continued. “You’re such a good first officer that you can’t leave me alone for one damn minute. You can’t handle what happened to me, you need me to explain it to you, to make it feel better for you.” Kirk’s hands came up on either side of Spock to rest flat against the wall, forcing Spock to lean back in the process. The captain was almost shouting now, as the words came tumbling out. Spock just kept looking at him, straight at him, focusing on the increased hum in his mind that seemed to grow louder the closer the captain got to him.

“Well guess what Commander. I don’t need this. I don’t need you staring at me all shift. I don’t need you running to Bones behind my back. I don’t need help. I don’t need--” Kirk broke off desperately. _You._

Spock waited a few seconds and then looked back at him calmly, “What _do_ you need then, Captain?” Though Spock thought he already knew. He couldn’t help it, with Kirk this close to him, his emotions rolling over Spock’s conscious. He gave up any pretense of a fight and reached up with his right hand to circle two fingers loosely around Kirk’s wrist, welcoming the rawness of what he was about to receive. _A fierce loneliness, so deep and aching all over. Just barely outweighing the exhaustion of keeping his outward shell intact. Desperately wanting someone to just take it away from him. Desperately wanting it to be Spock, but knowing it shouldn’t be. He was alone, he knew that. He always would be. Frank had seen to that. Why then, why did he find himself yet again inches away from his First Officer, almost daring him to ignore every word that was pouring out?_

Kirk’s looked confused, and his gaze broke momentarily looking down at Spock’s chest. Spock brought his hand back down to his side. When he looked up again, Kirk was staring back at him, anger rising up once more. Before he could say anything, Spock brought his hands up again, pausing and fluttering at Kirk’s sides and looking Kirk in the eye for a beat. Kirk dropped his gaze to the side, not daring to breathe, and Spock continued, feeling the heat grow between them. He slowly brought his fingers to rest lightly on Kirk’s hips. Kirk drew in a sharp breath and his face reddened, bringing his eyes back to Spock’s as they started to shine in the light. Spock met his gaze, projecting carefully. _You’re ok. This is alright. I have you. Just be here. Don’t go there._

And Spock just knew. He knew Kirk needed this. Needed to feel something solid and real. To remind himself where he was, to get through another night. Because this wasn’t working.

He looked down, widening his stance slightly and bringing one foot in between Kirk’s. He relaxed his posture against the wall so that he was level with Jim, not over him, and then he looked slowly back up. Kirk broke as he took in Spock’s stance, bringing his hips forward quickly and leaning into him, palms still flat against the wall bracketing Spock’s head. Spock slid the leg in between Jim’s forward slightly, pressing against Jim’s erection tentatively through his shorts. The captain groaned low and quiet and his right arm came forward to Spock’s shoulder and clenched in the fabric of his undershirt. Spock’s hands grasped for Kirk, hands sliding and kneading along his lower back as arousal flooded his brain. A few more presses of Kirk’s hips against his, and Kirk’s head tilted forward, panting heavily against Spock’s neck. Spock dipped his head forward too, his cheek sliding against Jim’s as Kirk pushed him back against the bathroom wall. He’d never been this hard before, he felt Jim everywhere, and it was easy. So much easier than he’d imagined.

They moved together like this for a moment, feeling their pulses beat together before Kirk’s thrusts became faster, more haggard, his breathing getting louder. He continued like this for a moment before Spock realized something was wrong. The friction was starting to get painful and he was on the verge of voicing concern when Spock noticed the feeling of wetness where their faces were touching.

_Oh. Jim._

Kirk pushed himself back abruptly, sudden anger contorting his face as he swiped at his eyes and punched his other palm into Spock’s chest. “Just forget it, I can’t - “ Spock reached up and pressed his fingers softly at the back of Jim’s head, bringing his face to rest in Spock’s collar bone. At the same time he shifted even further down the wall and brought his hands under Jim’s ass, half pulling him into his lap. When Jim didn’t protest, he took his weight and stood up, walking them both though the still open door into Spock’s room. He sat Jim gently down on the bed, pausing to rub his thumb over the underside of Kirk’s wrist at his questioning look. He reached into his nightstand to grab a container of lotion and then settled against his pillows, back slightly up against the headboard. He stripped off his shift and underwear, pulled Jim onto his lap still half-clothed. He pulled at Jim’s hips, alternating their legs again and wrapping them around each other so that he could bring his cock to settle right against the captains, feeling the warmth of it settle against him and spread hurriedly through his abdomen. He grabbed the lotion, and his fingers paused slightly at the waistband of Kirk’s shorts before pulling them down just enough to expose his erection. Spock groaned aloud as he brought their cocks together, coating them both with lotion slowly. Jim shivered against him, and Spock traced a finger along his stomach. “Is this better?” he asked, looking up. “Yesss.” Jim breathed, settling down onto Spock’s lap and into his arms. _Please Spock. Please_.

Spock started to move his hand purposefully between them. And he knew, he could feel that Jim was close. He felt more wetness sliding with every whine from Jim’s lips against his neck, and he sped up slightly. He splayed his hand behind Jim’s back pulling him closer still. _Its ok Jim. You can come. You’ll come against my stomach and I’ll pull you through it. And then we’ll sleep_. He rubbed his thumb across Jim’s slit and Jim fell hard against him, pulsing with a grunt over Spock.

Spock kept moving his hand, slowing down after a minutes, before stopping and tipping Jim back slightly to see his face. Panic was starting to crowd the sated look in his blue eyes and before Spock could scramble him back against his chest, Jim was pushing himself back. Again. He snapped his boxers back up, walked in the bathroom, and slammed the door shut behind him. Spock was left, half out of the bed, half still a beat away from orgasm. He heard the sound of thud against the bathroom door and knew that Jim had fallen back against it. Spock stumbled to the door quickly, calling Jim’s name. There was no response, and eventually Spock heard Jim leave the bathroom floor for his own room - ignoring another call from Spock through the barrier. After several minutes, Spock sighed and grabbed a pillow and blanket from his room, entering the bathroom and setting up camp against Jim’s door. But Kirk never came out.

* * *

 

It had been horrible between them for weeks. Kirk couldn’t look at Spock, but he couldn’t stop looking at Spock. When their gaze met on the bridge, the captain broke it off immediately, looking over his shoulder or off into space instead, a determined stubbornness to it. Yet when his back was turned, Spock could feel those blue eyes on him, piercing, watching. It was like night and day to Spock. He was much more practiced in reading the ambient emotions always clinging around Kirk now, after everything they had been through. The hot and cold of their interactions was tempered somewhat by the fact that the tension in their spoken interactions had eased somewhat, though that in itself had taken a full week. Spock was sure it was clear to the whole crew that something was different, but he couldn’t focus on that. McCoy had noticed that the captain was avoiding Spock and Spock knew he had been trying himself to reach out to Jim, but Spock got the impression that he was not the only one experiencing difficulties in interacting with the captain at the moment.

He had heard the captain only twice in the night since their meeting in the bathroom. More night terrors, he was sure, but he had not intervened. Kirk’s appearance oscillated between presentable and concerning. He was almost certain the captain was either trying to avoid sleeping entirely, or continuing to drink himself to sleep. Though he did not know how he was escaping the after effects of the alcohol if the latter was true.

Almost 3 weeks had passed and Spock was starting to think that he had been wrong. The memory of Kirk pressed against him and those cracks in his soul, begging to be filled had dulled in his mind. Perhaps it was feasible to move on from this new knowledge of his captain’s inner thoughts and seek fulfillment elsewhere. He didn’t even need fulfillment he told himself, he could settle for satisfaction. He could settle for a distraction even. Then, without warning, Captain Kirk walked into his quarters in the middle of the night.

Spock awoke to the sound of his bathroom door sliding open. Even in the darkness he knew it was Kirk who entered. He reached over and turned on the light on his bedside table, squinting a little as he pushed himself up on one elbow and tried to find Kirk’s face.

The captain stood a few feet away from where Spock lay, wearing his uniform undershirt and pants, fidgeting nervously. Spock half expected this to be about a ship emergency, despite the fact that his communicator had not gone off. He looked up, waiting for the captain to declare his purpose. After a few seconds, he realized that this was different. One of his fists was clenching and unclenching unconsciously and he steadily looked anywhere but directly at Spock. “Spock, I…” Kirk started and then trailed off, looking at the floor. Spock wasn’t sure Kirk even knew why he came in here. He wasn’t drunk though. And it was late, but not yet into the next day. He must have been trying to avoid sleeping, Spock decided. A few seconds later, and Spock knew what Kirk was after. He sat up all the way and leaned back against the headboard.

“Captain.” It was not a question. And it got Kirk to look at him finally. The look there caused Spock to swallow quickly. Kirk was trying, that he could tell. His eyes were open and soft, deep pools of blue against his face. Spock turned and moved over in the bed, leaving an empty space for Kirk in his wake. Kirk got in and laid on his back, pulling the blankets up slowly, still not saying anything. Spock laid on his back too, mirroring Kirk for a few moments, staring up at the ceiling.

Kirk’s voice broke the silence. “Are you….Do you…?” But he broke off again, and Spock turned his head to look at him. Kirk was still focused on the ceiling, but his eyes were full and shining with wetness in the glow of the lamp, and he was biting his lip again. Spock almost smiled at it all, but it wasn’t really funny was it.

He got up from the bed abruptly, going over to his dresser and pulling on an undershirt and pants over his briefs. When he returned, he reached towards the wall and grabbed one of the extra pillows he kept on the far side of the bed. He lay again on his back, then turned towards the captain, Kirk still wasn’t looking at him. He pushed the pillow gently into Kirk’s chest and said softly, “Here.”

After a beat, Kirk’s fingers curled into the pillow, gripping tightly, and he finally turned to look at him. Spock managed a half-smile, one that seemed to send the tightness out of Kirk’s chest. The captain sighed deeply, relaxing, and sinking further into the mattress. Spock motioned for him to turn over, and reached over him to turn the light down again.


End file.
